Good Morning
by Azaelynn
Summary: When Bones wakes up, he realizes that this was NOT his bed. Who the hell has red satin sheets?
1. Chapter 1

GOOD MORNING

LADY SHINIGAMI

DISCLAIMER: OH, IF ONLY... BUT I DON'T.

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This is my first Star Trek fic, so please, any and all reviews are welcome. This was based off picture i drew a while back

http: /rhaenys. deviantart. com/# /d2fz8t1 , just remove the spaces.

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Leonard 'Bones' McCoy slowly rose up to a level of consciousness, serenely drifting out from the comfortable black depths of peaceful sleep, feeling much better than he had in a long time, and before he even opened his eyes, he was immediately aware that... this was Not his bed.

It was a damn comfortable bed, but still, it wasn't his.

Where was he? How much had he to drink last night?

Stretching with a groan, he rolled over, burying his face in the sheets, blinking tiredly. He had to wonder about the red sheets. Red, satin sheets? Who the hell has red satin sheets on a starship? They did feel pretty damn good, though...

"Good morning, Doctor."

McCoy froze. He knew that voice. Oh, he knew that voice quite well. He knew the person that, admittedly, sexy voice belonged to, and what the hell was He doing here?

"Sleep well, Bones?"

McCoy knew that voice, too. He had listened to that voice whine often enough in the Academy. Now he was confused, and seriously, how much had he had to drink last night? He looked up from the satin sheets, a small gasp catching in his throat at the glorious sight right in front of him. There was Jim, stretched out on the bed not quite beside him, staring at him with those electric eyes of his with his chin propped up on his forearm, and right next to the Captain was a sinfully lazy looking Spock in all his green-blooded glory, his usually impeccable appearance tousled and what could be called a smile gracing his fine features.

Both of them were quite naked.

McCoy was frozen in place, unable to tear his eyes away, because this couldn't be happening. It HAD to be a dream. Why? Because there was no way in hell that he was in bed with two of the sexiest people on the ship, the best friends he had, because Bones didn't want to lost that, and now he can feel the fear coming, because nothing good ever happens to him! Never! Tragedy will strike first.

"Bones, calm down. We're here, and we are not leaving, you got that?" Jim said quietly, blue eyes incredibly expressive as he accurately read him right, just as only a best friend can do.

Then there were pale arms wrapped around him, holding him close to a well-defined chest with a gentle strength that was not human, and he couldn't help feel the tender love and understanding that Spock was projecting through his touch.

He hadn't even realized the Vulcan had moved.

"We are here. There is nothing to fear."

"But... you two were so happy together, and I didn't even realise my feelings until after you two hooked up... I, I didn't wanna intrude.." Bones tried to explain, he couldn't even look at them, but Jim cut him off with a sweet kiss that surprised Bones with the gentleness of it. He hadn't expected it, not from Jim.

"Bones, we realised that you had feelings for both of us a while back, and we'd come to realise that we wanted you here, with us. You're our best friend, the best anyone could ask for, and we love you for it, but, Spock and I, we wanted you to admit that you felt something, and you did last night, so here you are." His smile was soft, but still a classic Kirk smile that continued to break hearts everywhere, and it warmed McCoy's heart and soul that that smile was currently directed at him, and that, together with the feel of Spock's strong arms wrapped around him, he felt truly loved.

"Leonard, we want you here, beside us, between us, completing our Triad. You are just as much my Th'y'la as Jim is." Spock's voice rumbled against his skin, sending a delightful shiver down his spine.

Well, he felt like an emotional, overly-sentimental sappy school girl, but... yeah.

He knew then, despite the sappy school girl bit, in that moment, that he had finally found everything that he had always been looking for in life, and, well, he was going to be damned and stupid if he was gonna let that go.

And Leonard H. McCoy was Not stupid.

With a grin and a sudden burst of confidence, he grabbed the back of Jim's neck, pulling the younger man in for a mind-melting, wonderful kiss that was quite eagerly returned, he felt lips nipping along his spine, long fingers trailing down his sides, and he couldn't be happier.


	2. Chapter 2

GOOD MORNING

LADY SHINIGAMI

DISCLAIMER: OH, I ONLY WISH...

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A/N: WHEN I FIRST UPLOADED THIS CHAPTER, ALMOST ALL MY PUNCTUACTION WAS GONE. I THINK I CAUGHT IT ALL, BUT LET ME KNOW IF I'VE MISSED ANYTHING. THANKS!

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CHAPTER 2

Warmth surrounded him as he slowly drifted into a waking state. Usually, being a light sleeper, he woke up rather quickly, but that heat, that lovely, comfortable warmth slowed the process, allowing him to savour the novelty.

Eventually, he was able to identify the source of that delicious warmth as an unusually hot body pressed up against his back, strong arms wrapped around his torso and he nestled deeper into the other's hold, quite content and satisfied.

Memories trickled into his conscious mind, and this time he didn't panic, quite proud of that, actually, even if it still was pretty unbelievable. Now that he had identified the hot body behind him as his favourite Vulcan, he had to wonder; where had his best friend and captain gone to?

That question was quickly answered as Jim stepped out of the bathroom he shared with Spock, freshly showered and dressed in a clean uniform.

His smile, as he noticed Bones watching him from his bed, was unusually gentle, full of affection that made his heart stutter and skip a beat. Without breaking his stride, Jim made his way over to his red satin covered bed and its occupants.

"Good morning, you two. Sleep well, Bones?"

McCoy nodded slowly, his head still kind of fuzzy with sleep. "Uh, yeah."

"Jim, you are aware that beta shift begins in approximately 12.6 minutes, correct?" McCoy startled slightly, not having realized that Spock was awake. The Vulcan's hold on him tightened only fractionally.

Jim chuckled, leaning over Bones to give Spock a quick kiss. "Yeah, I know. I've still got time."

McCoy tried to get up, since he was sure he had a shift in sickbay, but Spock refused to release him. "I should probably be in my office by now."

Kirk grinned at him. "Actually, Bones, since you seem to have the very bad habit of working on your scheduled days off, I've cleared you for the next few days, barring an emergency of course, so there's no reason for you to not use your leisure time."

McCoy glared at him, but it was only half-hearted. "You've thought of everything, haven t you?"

Jim's grin only widened. "Yup, but you've known that since we met."

He couldn't really argue, Bones decided. Kid did have a point.

"Jim, you now have 6.2 minutes before you are late for beta shift." For some reason, McCoy almost- but not quite, kept forgetting that Spock was even there. Maybe that was because Spock was naturally much more reserved than Jim and Jim's presence was just loud and in-your-face, even when he didn't say anything, which was pretty rare in and of itself.

"Okay, gotta run, you two have fun!" With a quick kiss to both Bones and Spock, Jim was gone.

There was a moment's pause in the sudden quiet. "So, since you and Jim have ensured that I have some free time, do you have any ideas on how I should spend it?" His southern drawl was quite pronounced with his sarcasm.

Behind him, Spock just pulled him closer. "Indeed, Doctor. I was intending for a shower, preferably with you joining him. Afterwards, I had no specific plans, but truly nothing more laborious than reading. If you have any other suggestions on ways to spend our time together, I would not be averse to hearing them."

"Our time together?" McCoy asked, one eyebrow raised in question.

"Indeed. I do not plan on allowing you out of my sight for any prolonged period of time for the foreseeable future." There was a hint of Vulcan arrogance in his tone, a sense of _I'm Vulcan, so there's no point in arguing, you'll only lose _, but for some reason, Bones couldn't really bring himself to get riled up about it, like he normally would have.

"You know, you and Jim both seem pretty sure of yourselves. You both have talked about this, about me, haven't you?"

McCoy suddenly found himself pinned beneath a strong, fit Vulcan body, staring up into smouldering chocolate brown eyes, and his breath caught in his throat as warm lips attacked his in a kiss full of passion, and he couldn't help but respond in kind, giving just as good as he got.

He panted once released, trying to catch his breath and slow his racing heart as Spock gently nuzzled up his neck and behind his ear.

"Indeed we have. Jim and I have discussed in length our mutual feelings for you, after we danced around the subject for far too long, should the other have not agreed." A hot wet tongue lapped at McCoy's sensitive earlobes, and he desperately tried to not let the attention distract him from the Vulcan's words. "As I have said previously, you are the third member of our triad, our triumvirate, completing us, complimenting us, each in different ways. Your astounding wit and compassion shine through, despite your, quite often, acerbic dialogue. Your honesty is second to none, and while your professional bedside manner is astonishingly caustic, it is nonetheless reassuring and comforting, because it is genuine."

"God, Spock, you're makin' me blush like a schoolgirl with all that sentimental sap!" It was true because there was no way his face burned like that on its own.

"And yet I speak only the truth, Leonard." Spock's hands were slowly driving him crazy, and the Vulcan knew it too, both through his touch telepathy and from the visible signs wracked from McCoy's body.

"I don't really see what you see in me, I'm just an old country doctor with a grumpy attitude," Bones tried to say. He still thought it was pretty unbelievable that either Spock or Jim wanted him, let alone both at the same time.

"Then I shall be forced to remedy that," Spock's voice was low, halfway between a rumbling growl and a purr. "Until you believe it."

Then Spock was kissing him hard, pressing McCoy down into Jim's bed, making sure that any body parts that could touch, did. One long fingered hand reached for McCoy's, twinning them together, and through the Vulcan's touch telepathy, he was able to feel the depth of the other man's projected emotion and it left him stunned.

But thinking was overrated, especially when Spock started grinding against him.

Breathing even became a luxury he could easily do without as the Vulcan pinning him down quickly and expertly prepared him with very capable fingers, continuously hitting that bundle of nerves inside him.

And seriously, holy shit. That predatory gleam in those chocolate eyes, so human amongst alien features, had to be the most fucking erotic thing ever.

Especially when coupled with that damned smug and triumphant smirk as Spock entered his body with one smooth and powerful thrust.

After that, McCoy wasn't even really aware of anything else besides the slight burn in his ass, quickly drowned out by blazing hot spikes of pleasure; the hidden strength in the Vulcan's arm around his waist as Spock lifted him bodily off the bed; the hypersensitive tingle of fingertips on his face, grazing his temple-

_He could feel the heat. He was sure of that. Positive of it, the heat was like standing in the desert. There was a sense of weightlessness, like he was floating, and beyond that, he thought he could smell the nostalgic scent of peach trees in the breeze._

_He was also pretty sure he was in a mind meld with Spock, and time seemed to mean nothing here, in this strange place that was everything he knew and nothing at the same time._

_Up ahead of him, or maybe from behind, McCoy thought he **heard/felt/sensed** a voice calling for him, drawing him deeper into the meld._

_It was small at first, looking like a black hole swallowing up a nebula, a presence coming closer, glittering black and he immediately recognized it as Spock. The Vulcan's mind was gorgeous, just like the man-_

**_Always there, soothing, a place to rest_**

**_Never judging, ever strong_**

**_A sea of shimmering blue-black stars, a desert sun at midday_**

**_Friend, brother, lover_**

_Dear God, he loved this man._

_And through Spock's eyes , he saw himself. He had never before associated himself with plants, but as Spock glittered like a night sky, he was hued in green._

_A healthy green, like cocklebur, aloe, spearmint, and watercress, brimming with a vibrant life that couldn't be contained. He resembled a wild, lush forest after the rain, young saplings in spring, a garden of medicinal herbs glistening with morning dew._

_McCoy was-_

**_A kindred soul, forever loyal, self-sacrificing_**

**_In need of healing himself, a medical genius, special_**

**_Insanely innovative, emotional like no other_**

**_A treasured gift_**

**_Friend, brother, lover_**

**_T'hy'la_**

Their mental connection was broken as they both reached a shattering climax, Spock clutching McCoy to him, their bodies flush against each other, vice-tight and yet as gently as if he were holding a tiny child made of fragile glass. After a few moments, he slowly lowered his precious burden back down onto Jim's bed before lying down beside him, one hand gently caressing his sweaty, sex-flushed face.

McCoy couldn't make heads or tails of anything. His brain had shut down and was still trying to restart itself, with very little progress. That mental, emotional and physical overload had simply been too much for his poor brain to handle.

Eventually, when McCoy was able to rub a couple of brain cells together, he lifted his head to look at Spock, meeting the dark chocolate gaze with his own hazel and he smiled.

He pressed a chaste kiss to the Vulcan's lips. "I love you, so damn much."

Spock smiled with his eyes, one corner of his mouth quirking upward. "And I you, my t'hy'la."

"That was- Darlin', I can't describe what that was, but hot damn. Was it like that with Jim?" He wasn't jealous of his best friend or anything; he figured the three of them would probably be sharing a meld sometime in the future.

Spock nodded, completely relaxed against the smooth satin sheets and pillows. "In many ways, yes. In some ways, it was more intense, only in the way Jim expresses his emotions in the meld, but the two of you are my equals and equal to each other, both my t'hy'la."

Now Bones was curious, once he started thinking about it. "What's he like, in the meld?"

Spock paused, thinking, searching for the words, as he languidly ran fingers through McCoy's hair. "I believe the most accurate description would be to say that he is like sunlight. No mere words, in any language I am fluent in, can truly do Jim justice, but it is acceptable." He paused again, glancing down at McCoy, whose head was now resting on his chest, grinning in a decidedly Vulcan way. "Jim will be pleased with you in future melds."

McCoy was puzzled. "Huh? Why?"

Then realization hit, and he groaned. "Its his damn green thing, isn't it?"

It did explain a few things, learning his soul was green. It certainly explained why Jim had been stuck to him like glue since they had met.

"Indeed. We three complement each other in different ways. We have a rare gift in each other, as such compatibility, even when paired, is almost unheard of, in any civilization we have encountered." The Vulcan's too-human eyes were so gentle, it was startling. "I find myself... very humbled to have found both you and Jim."

McCoy didn't know what to say, he couldn't think of anything even remotely appropriate. So he didn't bother to try. Instead, he wrapped his arms around Spock's waist and held him fiercely close, his face pressed into the Vulcan's neck.

He must have drifted off, because sometime later, he blinked himself awake, finding himself alone in Jim's satin-covered bed. Feeling better rested than he had in a long time, McCoy stretched his body like a cat, joints popping and bones cracking, looking around for his wayward Vulcan in the dim lighting of the Captain's quarters.

Oh, there he was. McCoy raised himself onto his elbows, watching as Spock meditated in the center of the room, surrounded by the soft glow of cinnamon-scented candles and as still as a statue.

After only a few moments of scrutiny, Spock opened his eyes, locking with McCoy's, and smiled as only a Vulcan could, expression softening minutely, those dark eyes full of affectionate warmth.

"Hey." McCoy was feeling uncharacteristically lazy, but he was in too good a mood to actually care.

Spock rose to his feet in one fluid motion, padding over to the bed silently. He reminded Leonard of a giant cat. "You seem to be in good spirits, t'hy'la."

"That'd be right. How long did I sleep?"

"Not long. Merely a few hours. You required the rest." Fingers caressed his cheek. "While you slept, I took the liberty of fetching some clothes from your quarters, and I have also ensured that a pot of coffee is ready for when you woke."

McCoy grinned. "Aw, you're too good to me."

Mischief glittered in that dark gaze. "Indeed. Now, would you care to partake in that shower I mentioned earlier?"

McCoy laughed, the sound bright, warm and full of love. "Darlin', there's nothing in the 'verse I'd rather do!"


	3. Chapter 3

GOOD MORNING

LADY SHINIGAMI

DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING BUT THE PLOT. DAMN.

CHAPTER 3

McCoy was bored.

B. O. R. E. D.

Damn it.

It was the third day of his enforced time off, and he had absolutely nothing to keep himself occupied. Jim had even locked him out of the medical database, citing that reading medical journals, even if he enjoyed it, could be construed as work, which he wasn't allowed to do.

He'd even commed Chapel yesterday, just to check in, but their current milk run of a mission was actually going smoothly for a change, not leaving a lot for the actual medical crew on shift to do, let alone him in his forced, though temporary, exile.

Both Jim and Spock were busy working, too. Jim was going to be gone until Delta shift, only a couple hours away from now, and Spock would take over on the bridge until Alpha started in the morning. Currently, Spock was in one of the many science labs, overseeing some project or another that didn't interest McCoy enough to actually find out the specifics.

Maybe he'd go down to one of the rec rooms. A good workout should be enough to keep him busy, at least until Jim finished his shift. Also, he'd been neglecting lately to take the time to keep himself in shape. Then again, trying to Jim out of trouble and patching up his ass was almost as good a workout as any.

It was a hell of a lot of work keeping Jim out of trouble.

It was weird, though, trying to occupy his time. Usually, he'd be ranting and raving, cursing up a storm at not having enough hours in the day.

Now, well, he was just... bored.

He hadn't had this much free time in... hell, he couldn't really remember, that's how long it'd been.

Damn it. Rec rooms it was. An exhausting, mind-numbing workout sure sounded like one hell of a good plan. With his mind made up, McCoy changed into a plain t-shirt he still had from med school and a pair of drawstring sweats, grabbed a towel from the bathroom and his comm., before leaving Jim's Captain's quarters.

He still couldn't believe, but really wasn't at all surprised, that the idiot had red satin sheets.

He chose the rec room down by the observation deck, thankful that it was empty when he arrived. He always did like and enjoy his privacy.

He went through a few warm up exercises on auto-pilot before queuing up some music from his personal files, slowly moving with the rhythm and beat of the music until he was well immersed in a free-style routine involving pieces of yoga, Tai Chi, a variety of different martial arts like Ba Gua Zhang, Hung Gar, Northern Shaolin and Capoeira learned throughout the years as he was growing up through college, as well as some ballet and dance moves learned from his Gram as a child, mixed into one improvised routine that pushed his body to its limits without strain.

He had never shown this to anyone, not even Jim knew, although that could be a good thing, since he was sure that Jim would want to learn his style, and some of the aspects of Ba Gua Zhang, specifically, could teach Jim about outmanoeuvring his opponents, giving McCoy a small break in patching up his ass time and time.

As a doctor, McCoy was aware of what his body was capable of, what it took to achieve an affective peak performance and effectiveness, and how best to keep that peak condition. Since he had been a small child, he had always been fascinated with every aspect of the body and its potential as a type of machine, and had followed the path of becoming a doctor for two reasons; one, his father, a man he had always looked up while growing up, had been one to his dying day, and being unable to prevent his death had almost broken him.

The second reason he had become a doctor was simply because he wanted to help people, no, he felt compelled to help people, drawn to it like a moth to a flame. He could be a soldier, Starfleet proved that, but even then, if he killed, it was only when absolutely necessary and always as quick and painless as possible.

Also, being as good a doctor as he was, he was essential to ensuring Jim's continued good health and survival. McCoy wasn't really sure exactly how Jim had managed to survive long enough to meet McCoy, the kid was such a walking disaster, a breathing trouble magnet on top of being a medical impossibility.

Spock's presence, while balancing Jim's recklessness, didn't help to lessen the danger to Jim's existence, either. He helped to keep his best friend, and now lover, safe, but while Spock was the immovable object, Jim was the unstoppable force; one of them had to give and it was never Jim.

Still, the Vulcan did do his damned best to keep Jim out of as much trouble as he could, especially since McCoy couldn't always be there to do it himself.

As immersed in his self-styled kata routine, and his own thoughts, as he was, McCoy did not immediately notice the time passing, nor did he notice another person entering the room, taking up a spot in the corner.

As the music ended and he drew up to a close of his improvised routine, McCoy was startled by the sound of slow, deliberate applause, and he almost fell over. Whirling about to face the intruder, he froze, eyes going wide as he felt the blood rushing to his face in what he was sure was an interesting shade of furious red.

Well, fuck.

James T. Kirk stood propped against the wall in a casual slump, arms crossed lazily across his chest in a relaxed fashion, and that shit-eating grin plastered across his face. This was nothing new. McCoy was used to this and his fingers twitched with the urge to smack the crap out of that grin.

But what had McCoy frozen in place was the unexpectedly soft gleam in the kid's electric blue eyes. He could almost describe it as awe, but that was ridiculous. Jim Kirk could do anything, there was no reason for any awe in regards to his best friend and doctor, especially with Spock around, the green-blooded and sexy bastard being practically perfect and all that.

Also, Jim used to teach some pretty advanced hand-to-hand combat classes back in the Academy, so there was certainly no reason for there to be awe in regards to McCoy's self-stylized amateur routines.

That'd just be ridiculous.

McCoy blinked, and Jim's grin grew just a little bit as he pushed away from the wall, moving closer to McCoy before dropping into a slightly aggressive stance.

Mental alarms started going off in McCoy's head.

"What are you doing, kid?"

"Come on, Bones, I had no idea you could move like that." His blue eyes glittered brightly. "I can already tell it's more defensive in style, and designed to keep the body in top shape, but I'm kind of interested in seeing you do that in a more practical way."

"And why the hell would I go up against you? You've taught your own combat class."

"Don't worry; you know I won't hurt you."

"Oh, joy."

"Come on, I'll let you put your music on, too."

McCoy thought about it. Now that the opportunity was basically staring him in the face, he was actually kind of curious as to how long he'd last against Jim. He knew he could never take Jim in an actual fight, but maybe he could avoid Jim long enough to even try and land a hit. He had trained himself to move with music, to move with rhythm, so maybe he could use that against Jim, since the kid wouldn't know how the music played out, but then again, the kid was pretty damned adaptable, so he'd have to be quick.

It _was_ tempting.

And he knew then that he'd be defending himself against Jim, so he may as well pick a good song to move with. He grinned, knowing exactly what he'd choose.

At the computer console, he pulled up his personal music files and queued up a playlist of instrumental music from the late 20th century, full of emotional upheavals, with drums and strings, powerful.

"Hope you're ready for this," he said, giving himself a thirty second delay to get himself in position. The music started on time, Jim started moving, barely startled by the abrupt beginning, and McCoy quickly lost himself in the rhythm, his speed picking up as he evaded, managing to use Jim's momentum against him to disorient him, spinning around the contours of Jim's lean body before sending a light jab at Jim's back that was only narrowly blocked.

Jim adapted fast, and openings quickly vanished, grinning as they continued to dance, learning as they went about McCoy's style, but even still, Jim hasn't been able to land a hit on McCoy yet.

Key word there being 'yet'.

"I'm surprised, Bones, you've been holding out on me."

"As ridiculous as it may sound, with a good mental soundtrack, you can do just about anything." Duck down under the jab at his ribs, follow the momentum into another spin around Jim's body, side-stepping the swipe at his legs. "This kind of routine keeps me in shape."

"And flexible! I'd wondered about that." His grin turned into a familiar lecherous leer, prompting McCoy's standard eye roll.

Jim leapt at the chance to unbalance McCoy, taking the opening and tackling McCoy to the ground, pinning him down easily and effortlessly.

The sudden tackle stole McCoy's breath as he blinked up at the ceiling, hands pinned slightly over his head while Jim straddled his waist, and he refrained from another eye roll at the feeling Jim's arousal hardening against him.

"You bloody horndog," He growled, flexing against Jim's grip.

"What can I say? You... inspire me." Lips mouthed at his throat, and McCoy tilted his head back, allowing the access, arching his hips ever so slightly just to hear Jim's repressed groan, feeling his captain's grip on his wrists tighten.

"As fun as I'm sure it would be, I'm _not_ having sex on the rec room floor." His accent was showing through, thicker than normal, and he could feel Jim's grin against his pulse point at hearing his protest.

Not that any protest would stop Jim Kirk, of course.

That'd just be silly.

"I'd take sex in the shower room." Jim thrust down, grinding the erections together, creating frustratingly blissful friction, and McCoy's eyes fell shut as he moaned, enjoying the feel of Jim's body against his, strong thighs tightening around his waist, sending blood rushing to his groin and making him even harder before he's gone from his place above McCoy, leaving him stunned for a minute. Where the hell did Jim go?

That question was answered as Jim hauled him to his feet, pushing him towards the shower rooms while giving the computer a command to seal the rec room off for about an hour before twisting McCoy's arms behind his back, forcibly marching him into the empty showers.

"Do you have _any_ fucking idea how fuckin' sexy you are?" Jim's voice was low, shoving him face first into the tiled wall, grinding up against him, his arousal rock hard against McCoy's ass.

"How 'bout you shut the fuck up and show me?" McCoy growled deep, accent thick as molasses, and he could feel Jim shiver almost violently at the sound.

"_Fuck_, Bones, yeah I can do that." Jim removed one hand from his wrists to grab the hem of his shirt, roughly pulling it over his head and twisting it around his wrists, tying them together and leaving McCoy trapped to Jim's mercies.

Jim's completely aware of the power he holds over McCoy in this position, breath hot and heavy over his ear as he starts talking trash in a voice that should just be _banned_. Jim has always been a talker, and he uses this to his advantage, slowly bringing McCoy to the edge and back again with his words, filthy as all hell, and hands that were _everywhere_, nails digging into his skin, scoring red lines down his back, his ribs as he presses his weight deliciously against McCoy's ass.

Jim quickly strips them of their remaining clothing, throwing the discarded articles in a random direction away from them before turning on the water of the shower head they were under, the first blast of cold water contrasting sharply with their heated flesh. The water heats up, steaming the tiles and Bones groans as Jim uses the water as lube, assaulting his ass first with one finger, then two, long before he's actually ready for the invasion.

But today, the sex will be very rough, almost brutal, and they're both turned on immensely because of it.

Sex this rough usually isn't McCoy's kink, but there's just something about Jim that makes him _want_ it, makes him _need_ it, makes him _crave_ it like a cracked out addict needing his next fix.

For some reason, McCoy didn't really mind.

McCoy found himself manhandled to his knees facing Jim's groin, his dick standing tall. Jim was decently large, thick and firm and McCoy took him into his mouth without hesitation, sucking hard and running his tongue along the thick vein on the underside of Jim's cock.

Jim's eyes fell shut in heady appreciation, fingers clutching tightly in McCoy's hair as he bit back a sharp cry. He doesn't hold back, allowing his hips to thrust forward as McCoy makes this _sound_, this filthy, encouraging sound that just drives Jim_ insane_, grabbing McCoy's head with both hands as he starts to face fuck his best friend.

McCoy took the abuse like a champ, moving his head in tandem to Jim's thrusts and opening up his throat to take in Jim more smoothly, breathing through his nose when he could.

He chocked occasionally on Jim's girth, tears starting to form as Jim tugged more insistently on his head, but he was rock hard, almost painfully so, and he could do _nothing_ about it with his hands tied behind his back with his own shirt! He growled as he sucked Jim's cock to the root, the head down his throat and mentally smirked as the younger man fucking his face shuddered violently, knees quaking and his grip on his hair painfully tight.

"_God, fuck_! Bones, that's enough!" Jim pulled away, cock dripping with McCoy's saliva, trailing from the head to swollen lips. The sight alone was almost enough for Jim, and he had to restrain himself, using every scrap of willpower and his stubborn determination to prevent himself from coming right there.

He hauled McCoy to his feet, shoved him towards the line of sinks and bent him over one of the sinks facing the mirror, kicking McCoy's legs apart as he did so.

"Always knew you had a fuckin' _glorious_ mouth, Bones, knew you were a great cocksucker," Jim spoke quietly, lust heavy in tone and decibel, staring at McCoy in the mirror. "But if you wanted me to fuck you hard that badly, all you had to do was ask."

McCoy wanted to seriously slap that smug, cocky grin from Jim's face; although the kid had earned it with how ridiculously aroused he was in his current position. He caught Jim's electric blue gaze in the mirror, eyes blown with desire and lust and need, and he snarled, bucking his hips back and arching his spine in a clear demand for Jim to just get on with it and fuck him senseless already!

Jim laughed, hot in his ear as he maintained eye contain with McCoy by use of the mirror, slipping his fingers inside him again, teasing him, wringing a rumbling growl from McCoy's chest before replacing them with something bigger, slamming balls deep into McCoy on the first thrust, waiting only a moment before pulling out almost entirely and slamming into him again.

Jim set a brutal pace, hard and fast, fingers digging into his hips hard enough that McCoy knew there'd be bruises sooner rather than later, and the contrast of the cool sink he was bent over and Jim's heat burning through him had McCoy panting in seconds, fogging up the mirror as his limbs protested the abuse. His feet could barely find purchase on the tile floor, and he struggled to free his arms, if only to reach between his legs for his neglected erection, but no, Jim knew what he was doing and he was trapped.

Jim refused to touch him, resolved to undo him from shear force alone, by brutally fucking him until he couldn't remember his own name, lifting his hips slightly to change the angle, and slamming into his prostate with every thrust, deeper and faster and harder, until McCoy was screaming in a combination of pain and blissful pleasure, _begging_ for that final push over the edge Jim kept him on, begging for release.

Release was granted in the form of a hand snaking across his hip, nails dragging across his sensitive skin and squeezing his dick in alternating strokes to the brutalizing of his ass and he trembled as the shattering orgasm rocked his body, his sight going white at the edges, and he could only press his face against the fogged mirror in an attempt of riding out the powerful spasms that Jim so gleeful wrung from him.

McCoy clamped his muscles tight around Jim, tremors felt through his dick as Jim followed him into orgasm, spurting into the tight crevasse surrounding him, shouting out a heavy stream of obscenities before biting down on the back of McCoy's neck, just below the collar line.

After the tremors finally come to a stuttering halt, and McCoy tried to round up some semblance of a functioning brain, Jim moved away from him, pulling out and stumbling only slightly, a dopey grin plastered across his face.

"Holy fuck, I'm not sure I should be _standing_ right now," the grin gets wider, and McCoy can only roll his eyes. "You all right there, Bones?"

"Kinda. Would be better if I could, y' know, move my arms an' all. Or feel my legs, for that matter." He still hasn't moved from his resting place against the sink, and the mirror slurs his words a bit. There's no way in hell he is moving, because according to his brain, he doesn't even _have_ legs, and his spine burns like he's been stepped on.

Jim chuckled at his words, but he does release McCoy's arms, slowly bringing them to his sides, running his hands over the protesting limbs in a soothing manner. "Fair enough, I suppose, I was pretty rough with you. Come on, I'll get you cleaned up and we can go back to my quarters and just sleep until Spock gets off shift."

McCoy allowed himself to be manhandled to the shower that was still running, water warmed by now, and he smirked as Jim stumbled on shaky legs under his dead weight. "Sounds like a plan. Yeah, I really don't think I'm walkin' out of here."

Jim just smiled as he started washing them off under the spray, surprisingly gentle in contrast to the sex they'd just shared. He kept one arm around McCoy's waist to support him up until they were clean, leaning him against the tile wall as he dried them both off and somehow managed to put their discarded clothes back on, although McCoy ended up with Jim's black undershirt, all without releasing McCoy from his grasp.

McCoy always thought it was ridiculously adorable to watch Jim's affectionate side shine through.

Maybe he was just a sucker for the attention.

Yeah, he really was just a sucker for the attention.

They passed by very few people in the halls, and he almost groaned at the rumours he knew would start flying in regards to his current lack of coordination and the smug, sated look on Jim's face, but he really couldn't bring himself to care.

Jim got them to his quarters in no time, despite their stumbling gait as McCoy tried and failed to get his legs working again. He managed to at least stand on his own, although aided by the wall, as Jim keyed in the code and dragged his sorry but satisfied ass into the darkened room.

"You doing okay, Bones?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, darlin', just wanna sleep for a few hours." He grinned at hearing Jim's accompanying laughter, low in the dim lighting of the room as Jim laid them down on his bed, pulling back the sheets to snuggle into them, curling up behind McCoy with his arms wrapped loosely around his waist.

"We have time to do that, Bones. Sleep however long you want," Jim's arms tightened fractionally. "I'll be here when you wake up."

McCoy smiled as he slipped off into a warm, comfortable oblivion, knowing that Jim was as good as his word, and would be there when he woke.

The last thought he had before he drifted off was a sense of accomplishment, since, well, at least he wasn't bored anymore.


End file.
